009: The turn of a friendly card

[Sierra]

<El-Cideon> As afternoon breaks on the windblown bleakness of Mithardir, the party (plus associated magical hangers-on) stands around the stone rim of a well atop a hill. Caked with ancient runes eroded into illegibility, the well is twenty feet in diameter and offers no obvious or convenient means of descent.
* Franceska busies herself by fashioning ear plugs out of a spare handkerchief. First for Rosemund, and then for herself.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund nods gratefully and promptly applies them.
<Julia> Julia gets to work making earplugs by tearing off parts of bandage in her healing kit and bunching them up into tight ear canal filling bundles to then be wetted by some summoned water so they'll fit snugly. She has nothing to help with safely descending, though...
<El-Cideon> "Well, let me see here," Rosemund says, rifling through her possessions. "Ah, I have rope." Much louder, for the sake of everyone wearing earplugs: "I HAVE ROPE."
<Steph> Stephanie has actual earplugs, usually used to help her sleep, today having applied, practical purpose!
* Franceska glances towards Marina to make sure they are all being covered.
<Julia> Julia has enough bandages to cover everyone, and since half of them are already covered she can easily provide for Marina.
<El-Cideon> Marina makes do with what she's offered and, after a moment's struggle (and not without an air of vindictive satisfaction) ties a rag around her familiar's head for good measure. The bird promptly applies a deathgrip to her shoulder.
<Steph> Stephanie walks to peer down the well!
* Franceska resorts to pulling Darrin's hat a few inches down to keep him safe, waiting now for someone to descend first.
<Julia> Somehow Julia forgets all about Thing... but seeing Marina caring for her own familiar so much prompts her to cast deafness on her own familiar so she's not outdone.
<El-Cideon> Somewhere down there, probably about eighty feet down, Stephanie can see a flicker of light, as if coming from a cavern branching off of the shaft. It looks like it descends past that, too. Just from glancing over the lip of the well, the wind blows Stephanie's hair into a mess of tangles.
<Steph> She crams one hand over her hat, lest it blow away and all her bad features become visible to all! "Gimme the rope!" she calls, waving at Rosemund.
<El-Cideon> Not possessing any idea what to do with it herself, Rosemund hands it over.
<Steph> Stephanie quickly ties it to a hook, in her possession, which she catches at the edge of the well. And then, a long, downwards climb awaits her.
<El-Cideon> OOC: make a climb check?
<Steph> roll 1d20+10
* Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+10 and gets 13."12 [1d20=3]
<El-Cideon> OOC: and will. +10 bonus for the earplugs
<Steph> roll 1d20+14
* Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+14 and gets 29."12 [1d20=15]
<El-Cideon> Howling winds batter at Stephanie as she descends, but as much they try to tear her from her grip on the rope, the constant tumble and swirl proves a more disorienting influence, as if trying to rob Stephanie of her sense of balance...fortunately, her protective measures ward off the worst of this and she's able to descend halfway to that light source in relative safety.
<El-Cideon> OOC: repeat both?
<Steph> roll 1d20+10
<Steph> roll 1d20+14
* Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+10 and gets 22."12 [1d20=12]
* Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+14 and gets 18."12 [1d20=4]
<El-Cideon> Stephanie makes it to the end of the rope, just alongside a break in the wall that looks once to have been carved into the rock as a doorway. Inside is a grand cavern, a dome roofed with crawling vines in which nests a constellation of flickering lights that illuminate the cavern with about the visibility of early sunset.
<Julia> Seeing Stephanie has made it down, Julia climbs down after her...
<Steph> How lucky, it's just as long as it needed to be! She should be able to swing into the cavern and look around...
<El-Cideon> OOC: climb, then will
<Julia> roll 1d20
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d20 and gets 18."12 [1d20=18]
<Julia> roll 1d20+18 +2 more if sleep/stunning/paralysis
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d20+18 +2 more if sleep/stunning/paralysis and gets 34."12 [1d20=16]
<El-Cideon> Julia makes it halfway down with no trouble at all! Just another push down through the battering winds and she's free.
<Julia> roll 1d20 climb
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d20 climb and gets 10."12 [1d20=10]
<Julia> roll 1d20+18 +2 more if sleep/stunning/paralysis will
* Hatbot --> "Julia rolls 1d20+18 +2 more if sleep/stunning/paralysis will and gets 22."12 [1d20=4]
<El-Cideon> Just within, Stephanie can see more of the cavern: the floor is principally of packed earth, but a flagstone path follows a descending slope downwards. About thirty feet off are two white stone columns. Two short humanoid figures loiter by these columns, dressed in long tunics patterned like twining ivy. Each has a fly's translucent wings sprouting from her back, and each wears a golden mask. Two beefy black dogs, coats slick and glistening darkly like oil, slumber at their feet.(more)
<El-Cideon> Past this minor gathering is a pool of water, sixty feet long and half that wide, clear and clean and deep enough for a swim should one feel inclined. Beyond that you can see more vaguely a collection of huts, and a tree trunk reaching up to the cavern roof. The path also branches off to your left to an archway in the cavern wall.
<El-Cideon> And soon enough, Stephanie is joined by Julia, her familiar having no remote difficulty with the winds, not being able to hear them presently.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund starts to clamber down the well after her companions...
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+2
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+2 and gets 9."12 [1d20=7]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+17
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+17 and gets 25."12 [1d20=8]
<El-Cideon> But she barely makes it a few feet before a gust of wind tugs her feet out from beneath and batters her against the wall!
<Julia> Once at the bottom and safe from the winds, Julia removes her earplugs and then dismisses the deafness spell on Thing, glancing at the fairies ahead and then up the well as she considers whether to wait for more backup before starting anything.
* Franceska winces as she grips the rope and stares down at Rosemund.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund makes a concerted attempt to put in a better showing under pressure!
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+2
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+2 and gets 10."12 [1d20=8]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+17
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+17 and gets 22."12 [1d20=5]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+2
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+2 and gets 7."12 [1d20=5]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+17
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+17 and gets 28."12 [1d20=11]
<El-Cideon> --Stalling halfway down! Climbing isn't best done in full armor, it seems.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+2
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+2 and gets 6."12 [1d20=4]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+17
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+17 and gets 26."12 [1d20=9]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+2
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+2 and gets 19."12 [1d20=17]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+17
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+17 and gets 22."12 [1d20=5]
<El-Cideon> Finally, after repeated bashing against the shaft wall, a dizzied Rosemund finds her feet next to Steph and Julia.
<Julia> "Are you alright, Rosemund?" Julia asks worriedly, offering a hand to steady her.
* Franceska slides down after Rosemund!
<Franceska> roll 1d20+1
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+1 and gets 18."12 [1d20=17]
<Franceska> roll 1d20+19
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+19 and gets 28."12 [1d20=9]
<Franceska> roll 1d20+1
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+1 and gets 17."12 [1d20=16]
<Franceska> roll 1d20+19
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+19 and gets 30."12 [1d20=11]
<El-Cideon> "Oh!" She rubs her forehead. "I feel like I just rolled down a mountain, but I am fine."
<El-Cideon> Franceska descends with no difficulties and soon joins her friends.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20 star athlete Marina
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20 star athlete Marina and gets 4."12 [1d20=4]
<El-Cideon> roll 10d6
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 10d6 and gets 27."12 [10d6=6, 2, 5, 1, 1, 3, 2, 1, 2, 4]
<El-Cideon> A scream trails past everyone gathered in the cavern.
<Julia> Hearing that scream over the winds, Julia's head whips around and she looks down to see what happened.
<Franceska> Did she look over the wrong girl? But Marina seemed so capable!
<Steph> Stephanie likewise turns back to the well, affixing her earplugs further in before peering over the edge again.
<El-Cideon> The fairies, gossiping amongst themselves, "No, but he used the rune for 'abjure,' in the ancient Ionian sense, meaning--" finally look up. One slouches insouciantly against a stone column and wears a mask sculpted with an elaborate, jovial smile. The other stands at attention and wears a mask with a grieving, downturned expression.
<El-Cideon> It's dark down there, but after a moment magelight bursts into life. About thirty feet down, Marina's sprawled in a heap, battered but alive.
<Steph> It's a good thing she has her own rope... Stephanie ties her end to Rosemund's, and with any lucky, Marina will figure out she just needs to hold on whilst Stephanie pulls her up.
<Julia> "We'll be with you in a minute," Julia tells the fairies distractedly, focusing on Marina right now. Luckily Stephanie seems to have things in hand...
<El-Cideon> "Oh my!" Rosemund says, peering down and quite ignoring the curious fairies. She looks around. "Ah, I am all out of rope, anyone--ah, good!" Stephanie soon feels a tug on the rope.
<Steph> "Hey, give us a hand, willya?" calls Stephanie, grabbing the rope and starting to pull it up.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund grabs on and helps Stephanie haul the unfortunate sorceress (and one squawking bird) back up the shaft.
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+16 will for her before she gets out
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+16 will for her before she gets out and gets 23."12 [1d20=7]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+18 birdroll, better than her somehow
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+18 birdroll, better than her somehow and gets 24."12 [1d20=6]
* Franceska can't really help with her quite ordinary strength, and so simply stands there to provide moral support.
<El-Cideon> Marina is coated in dust and barely standing, in a manner which suggests certain joints are no longer within their proper alignment. Rosemund quickly sets to fixing this with her magical expertise!
<El-Cideon> roll 4d8+16
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 4d8+16 and gets 33."12 [4d8=4, 4, 1, 8]
<El-Cideon> "You know," the lounging fairy calls out, watching all of this, "you shoulda told us you were coming, woulda turned off the wind machine. When folks drop in here, well, they do quite drop in."
<Franceska> "You mean they haven't?" Franceska asks, removing her earplugs and fixing Darrin's hat. "Even though they waved us on? How uncourteous!"
<El-Cideon> "Well, it's an imperfect system," the jovial one says. "You get stuck outside on guard duty 'cause you're bad at cards, maybe you find little ways of getting back at people. Anyway, what do you folks want?"
<El-Cideon> Meanwhile, Marina nods thanks to Steph and Rosemund, brushes herself off (with a little magical assistance), and unbinds her familiar, which responds with an almost grateful burst of avian noise.
<Steph> "I want to play cards with you," says Stephanie, seriously.
<Franceska> "We are, of course, here upon invitation from Lady Bullfinch," Franceska responds, before she glances at Stephanie. "Really? You would pick cards over art?"
<El-Cideon> "Hey, you walked all through the desert and climbed down a dark hole just for me?" she says, voice tinny and metallic through the mask (which clings to her face without any visible means of attachment). "I'm flattered, I really am."
<Steph> "I was struck with the urge, just now! Don't blame a maiden for her fickle nature!"
<El-Cideon> "The master of the house would be responsible for inviting persons into his gallery, not his acquaintences," the serious one points out to Franceska in a somber voice.
<Julia> Julia hopes Stephanie will ruin the fairies at cards and gain advantages going into the gallery, so she keeps quiet and runs with it.
<Franceska> "Then perhaps this should be resolved the way things seem to be around here. Through a game of cards?"
<El-Cideon> "We are supposed to see their invitation--" the serious one starts out, only to be talked over by her companion: "Oh yeah? What would I get if you lost?"
<Franceska> "What are you betting?" Franceska asks Stephanie.
<Steph> "Can I bet you?" asks Stephanie, hopefully.
<Franceska> "But you don't own me."
<Steph> "That's why I asked permission," replies Stephanie, before rummaging around in her bag of holding and producing a handful of gemstones. "How 'bout these? Rubies and emeralds from distant worlds!"
<Franceska> "Do you own those?" Franceska asks, sounding doubftul.
<Steph> "Of course. They were my stock, before the call to adventure came!"
<El-Cideon> "They are in her bag, why of course they must be hers!" Rosemund assumes.
* Franceska shakes her head at poor, naive Rosemund.
<El-Cideon> "I dunno," the fairy says. The fixed expression makes it hard to infer much about her. "Are they important to you?"
<Steph> Stephanie tilts her head. "They're valuable, and valuable things are important," she replies, firmly.
<El-Cideon> "Okay," she nods. "Okay! Hey Mel, we need a table, get down on all fours." Her companion gives her a put-upon look, which her mask renders her quite adept at doing. "Alright, don't, but I'm not sharing with you." She produces a deck of cards from somewhere and shuffles them with a croupier's easy grace.
<Steph> Now, all she needs to do is know the game and wait for an opportunity to cheat her way to victory-!
<Julia> Not being familiar or skilled with such games, Julia watches keenly to see if she can pick up on any techniques that could be useful.
<El-Cideon> She sits down crosslegged on the flagstones (which on close inspection look to be engraved with once-holy writing, now just shallow, meaningless strokes in the weathered stone). "I figure we keep this simple," she says. "Just poker, no crazy rules. Whoever's luckier wins, right?" She sounds amused at this idea.
<Steph> Stephanie plucks the deck away, so she can shuffle it herself. "No switching cards, no flop-turn-river, just draw five and lay them down?" she replies, aiming to discreetly slip away a pair of aces into the folds of her shirt.
<El-Cideon> "Oh, aren't you the cautious sort?" she complains. "Alright, well, you did just climb down the mouth of madness out there, I'll cut you a break. Let's go."
<Steph> Stephanie smiles brightly, before starting to deal out the cards, face-down. "One chance to raise the stakes after viewing the hand," she voices, to distract the woman from her sleight of hand. "Right now, we're at my gems and entry to the gallery."
<El-Cideon> "Right, right," she says. The mask just stares. It's hard to say what exactly she's looking at.
<El-Cideon> OOC: roll sleight of hand for cheating?
<Steph> roll 1d20+15 cheating is go
* Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+15 cheating is go and gets 27."12 [1d20=12]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+10 eyeballs are go!
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+10 eyeballs are go! and gets 27."12 [1d20=17]
<El-Cideon> She just waits while you deal the cards, not saying anything.
<Steph> With that dealt with, it's time to look at her hand. With two aces, she can at least make two pair, or maybe fill out a flush if she gets four black cards...
<El-Cideon> OOC: roll perception?
<Steph> roll 1d20+10
* Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+10 and gets 24."12 [1d20=14]
<El-Cideon> She examines her cards, nods silently.
<Steph> "So hey," asks Stephanie, conversationally. "What else have you got? To offer, you know? I've got a pair of magic bracers I'll put up. Don't wear 'em now, but they've got sentimental value. Helped me down many a bad guy," she remarks.
<El-Cideon> "Welll, let's see here, let's see." She considers this for a moment. Her fixed expression remains as confidently exuberant as ever. "What else can I give you now. Respect?"
<El-Cideon> OOC: roll perception?
<Steph> roll 1d20+10
* Hatbot --> "Steph rolls 1d20+10 and gets 17."12 [1d20=7]
<El-Cideon> OOC: carry on
<Franceska> roll 1d20+28 Darrin lives for these things
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+28 Darrin lives for these things and gets 34."12 [1d20=6]
<Steph> She has a full house, which is going to win against most things, so she doesn't mind sweetening the pie a bit... but respect? Pft, when did she ever need that? "Aww, got no cool stuff? Wacky magic trinkets? Potions that make you sexier? Daggers of Daring, plus ten?"
<El-Cideon> "Well, yell you what, if it comes to it, I'll raid the storehouse and see what I can dig up. I know at least we've got this burning bow got left behind by, uh, a visitor. There's some other stuff. Just stick with my pokey sword, myself."
<Steph> "Sure, I'm game for that. I'll take a light blade before a bow, but they're all good. Let's do it!" replies Stephanie. Her hands blur as she lays down the cards; three aces, two kings! Who beats that? A flush, four of a kind? Nah, no way that'll happen now, she thinks!
<El-Cideon> She turns over her cards: two fives, two sixes, and the other ace. "Well well, that's what happens when you give away the deck." Her wings buzz irritably with the whine of a giant housefly. "It takes a great cheat to outcheat a good cheat," she sighs in resignation.
<Julia> "You were cheating?" Julia asks, aimed really at both of them. She never saw anything untoward!
<Franceska> "Yes, but they kept it even," Franceska responds quietly to Julia.
<Steph> "As it happens, I won fair and square!" replies Stephanie. Well, it really was fair and square if they were both cheating...
<El-Cideon> "It's okay being beaten by a better cheater," she says, standing up, hovering just enough off the ground to set her small frame at eye level with everyone else.
<Steph> Stephanie just smiles. It'll take more than that to get her to admit to cheating!
<El-Cideon> "Well, let's go," she says. "Boss's quarters are thisaway." She buzzes over the pool and sets off towards the collection of huts.
<Steph> "Let's pick up my winnings first?" suggests Stephanie, preferring to get the goods while the getting remains good. Who knows if they'll leave amiably enough later for her to claim them?
<El-Cideon> "What, you think I'm gonna forget?" she says with mock indignity. "Alright, alright, won't be a minute." She tears off towards the door in the leftward cave wall and shortly returns with a bow and a gold amulet on a chain. "I can't use this damn thing myself," she says, experimentally tugging at the bow and exhausting herself trying to pull the string back, "and who knows, maybe you can't either, so I thought, this here's an appropriate thing to hand over."
<Steph> No master archer, Stephanie still takes the bow and gives the string an experimental tug.
<El-Cideon> Stephanie finds firing it quite beyond her strength as well!
<Steph> "This thing meant for giants?" she remarks, shaking her head. "Ah, well! It's gotta be worth something to someone..."
<El-Cideon> "Wasn't a giant using it last time," she adds.
<Steph> Stephanie flips the sprite a gemstone, before tucking the bow away in her bag. "Ok! Let's go~"
<El-Cideon> She pockets it and leads the group further into the cavern. Around the pool and through the circle of huts--which, one can see, is arranged in largely the same fashion as Blackbird's tower roof had been. She seems intent on flying straight through this area without stopping to look at anything: "This is the actual gallery here, but the boss'll want to show you around yourself. He likes being there to see reactions." Each of the woven-root huts is about twenty feet in diameter. Within the gathering is a garden patch some thirty feet wide. It's mostly filled with crawling vines, and a thick tree trunk that reaches up to the ceiling far above.
<Steph> "Where's the boss? We can introduce ourselves," comments Stephanie.
* Julia looks uncertainly at the cages, so close to their goal, but still with lots of violence and/or negotiation in the way.
<El-Cideon> "Not far, this time of day," she says. While all of the huts have broad openings, several are presently curtained off on the inside, and an eighth sitting in the shadows has no apparent apertures at all. The jovial fairy flies on through the gallery; beyond it, a house-sized root dome rises against the far wall. The flagstone path detours to the right just in front of this; your guide follows this towards a stone amphitheater, from whence you can hear a woman's voice raised in song. Wordless, but a melody of deep regret and longing.
<El-Cideon> Within stand two figures: one seated, wearing an opalescent white gown, is a man with acres of nearly colorless blonde hair. A moth's wings sprout from his back, long and silky green. "Hey boss, got yourself some surprise patrons," your guide interrupts. The man turns from observing the similarly-dressed woman onstage, who stops singing at the interruption.
<Steph> "It shouldn't be a big surprise, though! Your gallery is famous, after all!"
<Franceska> "It is indeed," Franceska agrees instantly. "We are quite honored to be here."
<El-Cideon> He stands up. His face is long and narrow, but very animated when he speaks. "Indeed, indeed?" he asks. "And I would've thought you lost, to look at you. Why, I haven't the remotest idea who any of you people are. Someone must have been spreading word about things they shouldn't have!" he tsks, sounding more amused than perturbed. The singer walks up, loops her arm through his. Despite her sad song, she wears an expression of almost frightening gregariousness and has strikingly large blue eyes. Her hair is the same blond as Blackbird's and done up in a neat bun.
<Julia> "Surely that's a price of fame one such as Lord Blackbird would be familiar with, yes?" Julia puts in nicely.
<El-Cideon> "Ah, but one man's fame is another man's infamy," he points out.
<Steph> "Which would Lord Blackbird prefer to cultivate?"
<El-Cideon> "But of course it isn't my reputation that concerns me one way or the other," he says with a humble bow. "I am merely the curator, not the artist."
<Steph> "Then, you only want to show off the artist?" wonders Stephanie, before giggling. "But from what I've heard, it's the world itself that is the artist of your displays, isn't it?"
<El-Cideon> "Yes! Yes, very much so," he replies, sounding quite pleased with this observation. "You know, there was a time when I sought out theater and prose for life's great dramas, but really, would you argue that any man's pen could contend with the routine tragedies that mortals perpetrate every day? I for one would not!"
<El-Cideon> Rosemund, for her part, looks confused at this fawning approach, but remains silent. Surely her friends know what they're doing!
<Steph> Oh, she hates him already! She imagines what he would look like if she plucked off his wings and skewered them to his chest- "Oh, but what you have on display is anything but routine, surely! I am a mortal, after all, and I struck out to other worlds to escape hateful routines!"
<El-Cideon> "Yes, it's always so, is it not? One cannot have a tragedy without first possessing great aspirations, passions, desires, after all. And it can take such a simple mistake for all our deeds to come undone. You see, this is what I have sought to capture--each of us has but one life to live upon the great wheel, and for a person to see his hopes dashed, to live out the rest of one's existence with the knowledge that what was can never be reclaimed--well, can it not inspire one hearing such tales to treasure more that which they themselves still have?"
<Steph> "Ah, so you are a philanthropist, in that sense?"
<Julia> "That sounds eminently sensible," Julia nods, contributing to the white noise of this bothersome discussion.
<El-Cideon> He smiles brilliantly. "Ah, you understand!"
<Franceska> Deriving pleasure from another's misfortune is quite widespread, now that she thinks about it. Most people just don't go out and say it in quite so many words as this fey lord. "What point is there of establishing such a grand collection, if you have no one to share it with?" Franceska muses.
<El-Cideon> He sighs. "Ah, alas, there has been some minor altercation with the philistine enforcers of Arborea," he says. "But, I have taken care to ensure that sympathetic parties know where they might still seek out my collection, and I may take some comfort from serving what dedicated aesthetes remain."
<Franceska> "Such as us," she says smoothly, "which brings us to the reason for our visit, of course."
<El-Cideon> "Ah, yes! No doubt you would like a tour? Oh, do you require refreshment of any sort? No doubt the desert walk has left you quite parched."
<Franceska> "That would be lovely," she agrees. "Perhaps we could combine the two?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh, certainly." He snaps his fingers at the errant fairy. "Thalia! Wine, if you please, and be quick about it." She buzzes back up towards the cavern entrance, and Blackbird turns towards the gallery. "We were not expecting a visit this afternoon, of course, so some exhibits may perhaps be in varying states of quiescence...ah, but I am sure they will perk right up given opportunity to tell their tales."
<Steph> "They tell their stories themselves?" asks Stephanie, curiously.
<El-Cideon> "Who better to tell a man's story than himself?" Blackbird asks.
<Franceska> "I couldn't agree more."
<Steph> "What about bias?"
<El-Cideon> "Hm?" He looks at Stephanie with interest.
<Franceska> "An observer with sufficient mental skills should be able to deal with that," Franceska insists.
<Julia> "That's right, people will always paint themselves in the best light, won't they?" Julia agrees.
<Steph> "Or if the person loathes themselves, they'll make themselves seem worse than they are. There's nobody truly honest. Except for Rosie!"
<El-Cideon> "Oh yes, of course," he acknowledges both points. "But is that not in itself part of the mortal tragedy? An inability to come to terms with one's own faults? I have, as your friend points out, taken care to discern truth from self-delusion."
<Steph> "Hmm."
<El-Cideon> Thalia flies back in with her morose comrade, bearing serving trays with gold goblets for all. They're all topped off with a deep and rich red drink.
<Franceska> Why do they have to be called friends? What possible reason can people have to think that about her? "It is nice to be able to use your mind as you admire art," she muses, picking a goblet and shamelessly checking it for poisons with her magic.
<El-Cideon> Franceska detects no toxins in the goblet.
<Franceska> Satisfied, she takes a sip.
<El-Cideon> It's an extremely heady brew, she finds. Zesty and flavorful, some of the finest wine she's ever had.
* Julia takes her own goblet and feeds some to Thing to check for adverse effects.
<Steph> "How do you find them?" muses Stephanie.
<El-Cideon> Rosemund takes on of her own, but merely holds onto it for show.
<El-Cideon> The only adverse effect is Thing looking very satisfied indeed!
<Julia> One day... for now anyway she sips very daintily in a restrained fashion.
<El-Cideon> "Ah, well, I keep my eyes and ears open during my various peregrinations throughout the planes," Blackbird says, stopping just at the edge of the gallery circle to sip from his goblet. "Some tragedies are grand affairs, with the falling of cities and armies, and these opportunities one may hear about from a great distance. One develops a knack for being in the proper place at the proper time, and cultivating the right connections."
<Julia> "But with so many tragedies day to day, the few assembled here must be rather more special, yes?" Julia asks.
<El-Cideon> "Well, one gives it his best effort," he says with a sigh, redolent with regret for all those personal stories he simply didn't have time or opportunity or space to include in his little gathering. He turns to his fairy servants: "Thalia, Melpomene? Inform our friends that we have guests, and that our guests shall shortly wish to hear their stories." The fairies fly away to make their rounds of the gallery, while Blackbird steps up to the nearest hut on your left. "This one never sleeps, so a sensible place to start, no?"
<Franceska> "Quite sensible, yes," Franceska agrees.
<El-Cideon> Within this hut is what appears to be nothing so much as a walking box with humanoid sensory apparatus and four arms. It is at rest on the floor of the hut, fiddling with clockwork apparatus. Incomplete gearwork figures litter the floor around it: some blocky and mechanoid, some human in form, some animals. "It may stretch the definition of 'mortal,' I admit," Blackbird says. "How familiar are you all with the denizens of Mechanus?"
<El-Cideon> OOC: K:P if anyone wants
<Franceska> roll 1d20+9
* Hatbot --> "Franceska rolls 1d20+9 and gets 16."12 [1d20=7]
<El-Cideon> roll 1d20+10 Marina has that too, right
* Hatbot --> "El-Cideon rolls 1d20+10 Marina has that too, right and gets 11."12 [1d20=1]
<Franceska> "I would not expect to see much individuality or personal tragedy in one," Franceska muses, glancing at Blackbird. "So this one must be exceptional, then?"
<El-Cideon> "Oh yes," he says, "it would normally be quite beyond my realm of interest. A playwright I once patronized encountered the poor creature wandering on Arcadia, however, and I was quite taken with it." He turns to the creature inside the hut, addresses it in a sharply authoritarian tone: "Attend, drone! Who are you?" It stands, and dutifully responds in a mechanical, yet rather small and tinny, voice: "I am modron." Blackbird eyes Franceska, as if expecting a specific reaction to this answer.
<Franceska> "A designation rather than a name," she says, sounding unconvinced and quite dubious.
<El-Cideon> "True," Blackbird acknowledges, "but the point of distinction is the singular 'I.'"
<Franceska> "True," she echoes him, giving the modron a calculating gaze.
<Steph> "What else would it say?"
<El-Cideon> "But of course," Blackbird says with a chuckle, "'we.'"
<Steph> "But there's only one of it."
<Julia> "But there's only one of them here, unless you mean the royal we," Julia says, not getting it.
<El-Cideon> "They function as interchangeable units under normal circumstances, you see," Blackbird explains, slowly for the more ignorant visitors. "When you speak to or interact with a modron, you address the collective itself. They are meant to be representatives, not individuals. This one, you see, is broken."
<Franceska> "Normally, it would be a cog in a machine. But now, it considers itself its own unique machine? Is that what you are saying?"
<Steph> "Doesn't sound like much of a tragedy. Ain't that good?"
<El-Cideon> "Perhaps we should ask it," he says to Stephanie with a raised eyebrow.
<El-Cideon> ~